by kubasik
"What makes you think anyone does anything that he 'just' doesn't do?"
Now I stared at him. "We all do that. We all choose the things we do. I didn't have to come here with you. I could have ignored you. But I didn't. I followed you. I didn't just follow you. I chose to do it."
He smiled and nodded. Then he barked a laugh and stood up and looked out over the edge of the mountain— out at the stars ahead and down into the dark jungle below. "I don't think so," he said, still laughing, his back to me. "Though it's touching you think so."
I stormed up to him, frustrated by his derisive good humor. "Well, I think so. I mean, it's true."
"Then why did you come?"
I moved around to stand in front of him. "Because I was curious."
"Yes," he said, looking down at me, smiling, "you are curious. Your curiosity is so clear on your face, it's comic. Your eyes eat at the fabric of the Universe. Now, I'm not saying that if circumstances had been different you wouldn't have come. Say, if your boys were in danger in the cave where you were standing when I caught your attention. But given the circumstances, your curiosity took control. You had little choice."
"I had much choice."
"Only if you denied who you were. We can do that. We can stop being ourselves, and sometimes that's important. But at the root of it, we are who we are; tightly wrapped bundles of passions securely held in our flesh. And whether we know it our not, our passions drive us forward."
"Like the Passions? Like Garlen and Chorrolis? But we choose to call on them or follow them."
"We call on them or follow them because of who we are. A woman who isn't greedy isn't going to draw Chorrolis' attention."
"What if she needs money for her family? What if she doesn't have money, but needs it, and goes out to get money?"
"Then her love of her family requires that she become greedy."
"But she isn't greedy, she's generous."
"Ah. Now you're trying to couch everything in nice terms. I don't care about the reasons.
What is she at that moment?"
"But she ..."
"She's desperate for money. She might even be willing to lie for it, given the circumstances. Even kill. Chorrolis, his passion for greed strong in her now, will influence her action, Perhaps even inspire her to terrible deeds."
"Yes, but not everyone in need is willing to kill."
"Exactly. And why not? What prevents her from killing?"
"She chooses not to."
"And where does this choice come from?"
"She's decided. She's deliberated ..."
"And where does this decision come from?"
"From her..."
"Thank you.'
"But she decided it."
"How?"
"She just does.” At this point my argument seemed weak, even to me.
"You said you're a curious person. I'd think on this matter if I were you. And I remind you that there are cases where the spirits manifest themselves without invitation. If a person is strong in a certain spirit, the spirit calls and invites him or her to be a questor."
"Who are you?" I asked, exasperated.
"I am Krattack, illusionist, accidental member of the Stoneclaw crystal raider clan, and advisor to Vrograth.”
"Advisor? You seem to taunt him more than anything else."
"I do that. Yes, I do. I even enjoy it sometimes. I honestly don't know why he lets me get away with it. But I've got an odd look in my eyes. Some people confuse it with wisdom, and he thinks I'm good to have around. Oh, I'm not being vain. I'm just perceptive. People think I know what is happening in the darker corners of fate. Really, I'm just as confused as the next person. I just don't tell many people. So I'd appreciate if you could keep it a secret between us."
I couldn't tell whether he was Joking or not, but when he spoke again, Krattack was very serious. "I want you to find your children. I truly do. I lost my parents when I was a child.
The two situations are different, of course—my dead parents, your children enslaved. But the pain is comparable. So, out of compassion, I wish this for you. But I have my own reasons for wanting to set Vrograth against the Therans. I think your interests and mine intersect, and so I am asking you to wait before you go running down the mountain to try to rescue them yourself. I guarantee you will not survive. It will all be in vain."
His knowledge of my immediate plans certainly lent weight to the idea that he knew the
"darker corners of fate." I asked, "Why should I wait?"
"First, and, I repeat, you won't make it down the mountain alive. You don't have a magician's robe, so casting to protect yourself would be quite dangerous. No one here is going to give you a robe so you can reattune it, and I don't think you'd stand a chance of stealing one from anyone in the clan. Nor do we have spare resources for you to make your own. The trip itself down the mountain is ridiculously dangerous. There are monsters. Vrograth will come after you when he discovers you have broken your contract. Other raiding clans live on the mountain who are not as kind as Vrograth—trust me. And the mountain itself ... Well, let me put it this way. There's a reason we travel in air ships. The second reason you should wait is because I think not only will you soon have the opportunity to free your children, but I think Vrograth will help you."
"Why? He seems to have no interest in the Therans."
"Except as potential targets for raids, yes. But I've been poking and prodding him for years now, and I think I finally understand how to get him to see beyond the limited confines of the clan."
Smugly, I said, "Why would he do anything he doesn't want to do?"
Krattack smiled. "You see. There's the difference. He doesn't have to fight the Therans to help you. If he doesn't want to, he won't. But if the right events take place, he will fight the Therans, exactly because of who he is. He'll have no choice."
"And what might those events be."
"Young woman, didn't you take any stock of the ship you arrived in? Compare its size against those of our drakkars. It outclasses our cargo and crew capacities immensely. And it's made of stone. The ship is sturdier than anything we've ever thought of building. My study of magical theory is haphazard, given the circumstances of my life, and I have no idea how they get a ship of stone into the air. The law of similarity mocks the idea."
I nodded. "As an elementalist, I should have some clue, but I'm flummoxed as well."
"Flummoxed?"
"Confused."
"Ah. My Throalic is, you see is good enough, though limited. Well. There it is. Vrograth didn't show his amazement when you met him—no crystal raider would—but the ship you arrived in stunned him. Word had reached us of the Therans from people we've attacked, but he had never seen one of their ships before. Vrograth has yet to encounter the Therans. His pride will demand he try to attack one of these vessels. And he will fail.
And if he lives, his fury will consume him and he will have to strike at the heart of the Therans."
"Why ... why don't you warn him?"
"And say what, you foolish woman? 'Mighty Vrograth, despite your pride and fury, you're no match for such opponents.' Anything I might do to argue the situation would only goad him further on into battle. No. He'll do what he'll do, and I'll try to steer him the right way. But if you would remain, I would be grateful. You will make things easier."
"I don't want to be a puppet in your plans."
"Puppet!" he barked. "I'm only offering to help you get exactly what you want."
"With your own desires pulling the strings."
"Working in agreement. What is wrong with that?"
I could see nothing wrong with it at all. "And what is it you want?"
"Me? I want the Therans out of Barsaive."
12
As Krattack and I walked back to the village, I turned the word "Barsaive" around in my thoughts. I knew, from J'role and others, that Barsaive was the name given to a huge swath of land at the edge of the Theran empire from the time before the Scour
ge. The region extended from the old Wyrm Wood—now Blood Wood—down to Death's Sea, and from Iopos to Travar. Though my travels had taken me across much of this land at one time or another, I rarely thought of it as "Barsaive." I only considered the local geography and the local names of the places I visited. That all these areas formed a whole had never truly entered my head. For many people, however, the boundary drawn by the Therans generations ago had taken deep root in their imagination, and they identified their interests with all of the province, not just the area where they happened to live.
We reached the village and said good night. Krattack lumbered away from me, his massive shoulders thrown forward. I turned toward my own tent. I would not try to travel down the mountain because Krattack's words had made sense. And now that he had given me something to share with him, I trusted him.
13
I awoke the next morning to find Stoneclaw village buzzing with preparation. The presentation J'role and I had given to Vrograth the night before had worked after all, though not in the way we'd intended. Vrograth would not free us of our obligations, but his pride had been wounded, for I, a human woman, was willing to attack the Therans, while he, up until now, would not.
The preparation kept us busy most of the day, and I had no contact with J'role, though I could hear his laughter and cries of victory and defeat as he entertained the children up and down the cliffs.
Several dozen trolls and I climbed up a steep slope to a series of long, narrow caves that wormed their way in from the slope. One of the trolls told me that the caves had been dug out decades ago, specifically to store the drakkars. By keeping the ships in caves carved out from the middle of the steep slope, the drakkars were relatively safe from thieves.
Several trolls nevertheless always remained on watch in the caves. Fifteen caves lined the slope, and I was assigned to work in one of the lower ones along with a group of four trolls.
Though I knew the ship was an airship, the sight of it levitating slightly off the cave floor still caught me off guard and made me smile. The morning light streamed into the long tunnel and illuminated the drakkar—an airship about a hundred feet long and fifteen or so feet wide.
The bright yellow light glinted off the shiny dark wood, which the trolls had carved with intricate patterns.
I suddenly realized that I had seen very little in the way of artistic endeavor among the trolls—a few large rings made of blue or green crystal, some carefully crafted cooking ware, also of colorful crystal. But everything else the trolls owned—tapestries hung on cave walls (all decaying quickly from lack of care), goblets, silver and gold rings (which the trolls wore as earrings after reshaping them a bit), statues of wood and stone—were prizes taken from the victims of their raids of the lowlands.
The ship revealed where their concerns rested. Unlike the Theran vessels, which were smooth and featureless, the wood of the drakkar was so covered with carvings it seemed to writhe. Swirls and knobs and pictures of the sun and clouds and mountains all flowed in and out of each other, so it was impossible to discern where one representation or pattern ended and another began. One might look at a piece of the pattern and think it showed the sun rising over Twilight Peaks, but they shift perspective only slightly and the Peaks were lost as they transformed into clouds hanging over a rising sun.
The thick mast rested between the two rows of benches on either side of the ship, waiting to be set into a well braced slot at the ship's center. Approximately thirty benches lined the vessel, fifteen to a side. Oars rested on the benches, and two trolls sitting on each bench would use one row. It seemed odd to me that the trolls would require more oars to crew a much lighter vessel than our Theran ship, which was much larger and made of stone. But of course the Therans' magic let them build much more efficient ships. The Theran ships also drained the life essence out of their rowers for more power—a magical feat the trolls did not utilize.
Several of the troll sailors—that is, adepts with talents that allowed them to manipulate the vessels climbed on board. One of them yelled at me to get to the back of the cave and untie lines that connected the drakkar to great metal hooks driven into the wall. The gruff voice of the troll, loud and harsh, did not frighten me. I heard in his voice impatience—an impatience to be airbound—and his impatience swept me up in its momentum. At no time during my tenure at the troll camp had I ever felt any particular connection to the work at hand. I worked hard it was only so my people and I would have food and shelter while stranded on the top of a mountain. But this new task created a sensation that l have never experienced since.
We live in an age of magical thought. Certain records suggest that this magical thought has not always been with us, and scholars theorize that it may all someday vanish again.
But it is ours now, and I do not think we always appreciate these wonders we possess.
Sometimes it seems that if the world were encrusted with jewels instead of earth, we would search frantically for dirt. So, the idea of flying ships was not in itself spectacular—hadn't I already traveled on one? It was confusing to feel such excitement gripping my muscles as I undid the cord that would free the ship from the metal hooks.
My shoulders tightened. The thick, coarse rope in my hand felt amazingly rich in textures as my flesh became more alive.
I pondered this as I coiled the rope, and realized that wonders in themselves do not produce wonderment. There was no wonder on the Theran ship—the vessels were smooth and stone gray and dull. The sailors had moved around on them as if they had stepped out from their huts onto some dry, empty field that held no interest. For the crystal raiders, however, the passions evoked by preparation for the launch of their fleet transformed the air itself. Their love of their vessels—of the splendor of flying through the air—filled the chamber and took hold of me, too.
We define wonder. We create it. Without us, the world would exist, but robbed of all beauty and splendor. To say that the stars would be just as beautiful without our eyes to see them is to miss the essential point of the exercise. There would be no one to see the stars. They would be only what they are, objects without the investment of our meaning.
That is why the Universe created we name-givers. To name splendor and create the true magic.
I placed one coiled rope, and then another, and then a third over the edge of the drakkar.
The trolls on board the ship had unfurled the ship's sail, which had been neatly tucked under a section of benches. While they were busy, I touched the wood of the vessel when I was sure none of the trolls was looking. The smooth, polished wood rolled away under my fingertips, and it seemed that the hard wood would be comfortable to sleep on.
One of the trolls spotted me and shouted, "You done?”
I jerked my hand away, suddenly a child caught in the act of stealing some rice candy out of the bowl before dinner. I nodded quickly.
The trolls seemed not to notice my fondling of the hull, and two of them jumped out of the ship and grabbed it by the edge. "Help push it out," one of them said. She looked me in the eyes, then smiled at me, her massive gray green face filling in the cheeks, the large teeth in her mouth sticking out as her lips stretched taut. She had seen my fascination with the ship and approved.
We all began to push.
I put my weight against stern, expecting the ship to move forward easily. It was made of wood. It floated in the air. A troll stood on either side of the ship, also pushing. But the ship moved only a few inches. In my surprise, I lost my grip and fell forward into the stern, slamming my shoulder against the hard wood (not nearly as comfortable as I had fantasized moments before), and cried out.
Four sets of large troll eyes turned slowly back toward me to see what the ruckus was about. I offered no explanation— not even a shrug—and they seemed content to let the matter drop. The two trolls on the outside of the ship gripped the edge of the vessel once more and I placed my hands flat against the hull, ready this tune for the slow progress.
So we
forced the ship forward, and as we moved closer to the opening of the cave the sun's light caught me full in the eyes, dazzling me with its brilliance. In that blinded moment I lost all track of my previous life—my children, my husband, the quests I'd undertaken. It seemed that all that I'd ever done was work among the trolls of Twilight Peaks, and that I was quite content in my life. The sunlight glinted off the dark wood, and the vessel's strange, carved textures sparkled like silver jewelry on a lady's fine boned wrist. I had never seen anything so beautiful, and I smiled from sheer joy.
I wanted desperately to climb into the boat, slip under one of the benches and hide myself if necessary so that I might go sailing with it off into the sky. Away from J'role and his confused pain. Away from my concerns about the other slaves who I'd helped free. Away from the concerns about rescuing you two. I feel ashamed writing the words, but that is how I felt just then, and if l am to be honest about J'role, I must also be honest about myself. My only explanation is this—I did not want to leave everyone forever, just for a little while. I only wanted a rest from having to care so much about everyone else.
